


Glory Burning.

by SS98



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Bottom Louis, Dominant Harry, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Married Harry, Married Louis, Mob Boss Harry, Mpreg, Mpreg Louis, Pining, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Harry, Powerbottom Louis, Pregnant Louis, Protective Harry, Scared Louis, Scary Harry, Smut, Submissive Louis, Top Harry, Violence, fidelity, louis has a secret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-02 20:30:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10952172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SS98/pseuds/SS98
Summary: There’s never any foreplay when they have sex; Harry merely makes sure that there won’t be resistance on the part of discomfort from Louis before driving home. He was ruthless in his least temperamental state and monstrous at his worst, each time leaving Louis in various degrees of soreness. Louis used to love it without ever admitting it and a shameful amount of times did he orgasm in the most unkempt manner from Harry’s lack of gentility.Except now, he felt more agitated by such roughness because of the four week old foetus whose concerns were also his.





	Glory Burning.

“I hate you.” Louis muttered as his concluding statement to his umpteenth argument with Harry this week. Every other week was and would be no different but he’s afraid of obtaining a nose bleed should he think about that.

His _husband_ was not always such a vital component of Louis’ resentment but has recently become its singular source. Recently being the five years of their marriage. Half a decade ago, Louis’ father gave him up as bait to a drug lord’s son in exchange for a debt’s payment and Harry was the brother who bargained for him instead. There was barely three days between their first meeting and wedding day, during which Louis saw Harry for an hour in entirety. They married with Harry’s father and brother as witness before returning to the life of a Styles without compassion for the newest addition.

Harry slept in a different room from Louis and they never spoke except for their three meals a day, all of which consisted of vicious words spat between them. The sickening result of each argument for the most recent year has been sex in its most lethal form. Each hour of every day made Louis feel like his spouse would put a bullet in his skull if it came down to it, but when Harry’s heated gaze triggered a reflex in them both that ended in sweaty skin and scratch marks, he felt like the man’s most prized companion.

He’s been mindlessly fucked in just about every room of their ridiculous mansion and had Louis possessed the will to stop himself, Harry might not have had the ability to render him pliant at one silent command. Harry would grasp his thigh under the table or squeeze his wrist before leaving a public dinner and Louis knew to follow. Louis isn’t allowed to go anywhere without Harry or one of his men, let alone sees his old friends, so he bitterly makes the best of his imprisonment.

“That is unfortunate.” Harry did not look up from the papers spread out before him. He went over the family accounts with a fine-toothed comb every second day.

Louis groaned frustratedly and just barely resisted stomping his foot. “I want to go to the ballet tonight.”

“I’m busy tonight.” Harry deadpans.

“I’ll go with Al.” Louis crosses his arms, mentioning the one guard of Harry’s he finds tolerable. “I need cash to go.”

Harry spares Louis a glance then, his signature smirk sliding into place between two deceiving dimples. “Tonight won’t be safe for you to go out.”

Louis’ heard this twelve too many times. “Which night is safe?”

“None, now that you mention it. Sorry, sugar.” Harry stands and begins untucking his shirt from the waistband of his trousers. He walked up to Louis with a predatorial stalk, crowding the boy up against the edge of his desk so all the latter had to behold was the intense emerald of his demented gaze and the broad physique withholding him from the world. “Turn around for me.”

“I don’t want to have sex.” Louis was always resilient for the first few moments, steeling his resolve even as Harry’s lips dipped to his throat. “I want to go to the ballet.”

Harry bit down hard on Louis’ neck, stealing the boy’s stubbornness from beneath him. “I’d like to put my cock in you sometime soon.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“Yes it will.” Harry picked Louis up abruptly by the backs of his thighs and planted him on the desk, yanking harshly on the boy’s pants so they rip along the seam. “Your ass is so sweet.”

Louis obliges when he’s pressed down on his back, knowing better than to fight it. Harry steps fluidly between his thighs and nudges them apart, calloused palms running up the inner flesh. “You’re a psychopath.”

“Perhaps.” Harry’s smug expression worsened at the absence of Louis’ underwear – a consequence after having them shredded at breakfast. He easily slipped two poorly lubricated fingers into the boy, listening to the shuddery moan that follows. “You’re still not going to be opening these legs for any other bastard.”

There’s never any foreplay when they have sex; Harry merely makes sure that there won’t be resistance on the part of discomfort from Louis before driving home. He was ruthless in his least temperamental state and monstrous at his worst, each time leaving Louis in various degrees of soreness. Louis used to love it without ever admitting it and a shameful amount of times did he orgasm in the most unkempt manner from Harry’s lack of gentility.

Except now, he felt more agitated by such roughness because of the four week old foetus whose concerns were also his.

A week ago Louis felt so ill that he passed out on the staircase but was luckily discovered by Al, who promised to keep the pregnancy a secret for now. In their marriage and of all the grave possibilities, Louis never saw Harry as a glad father but also would never sacrifice a child of his on account of a selfish partner. He had to tell Harry but would hold out for as long as he could first.

*    *    *    *    *

“What the fuck are you doing?” Harry was pulled out of a _business meeting_ by Al bringing him a note from Louis, written in neon purple ink and complemented with half a dozen mocking cartoon hearts.

Louis knew where Harry’s safe was and the code to bypass its obscene computerised lock, but he could not access it without the man’s retinal scan. He sat now perched on Harry’s desk, a vision of picturesque innocence, with mischief lighting up his features. “I need some money.”

“Fine.” Harry has always encouraged Louis to be the obedient housewife and use his money for shopping or pointless soirées, so long as he did not do it unattended by guards. “How much?”

“Five thousand.” Louis chewed his lip and Harry noticed it fleetingly enough for his observation to go undetected.

His husband nodded, barely comprehensive of a mediocre blow to his bank account. “Will that be sufficient?”

“For now.” Louis hopped off the table when Harry opened the safe and extracted enough tainted green bundles to cover Louis’ request. He emptily kissed Harry’s cheek and lightly squeezed the man’s arm appreciatively.

“Might you be planning to run away?” Harry has spent enough time with Louis to know that this behaviour is not unusual but also not _unearned._ A generous and less than shameful pinch to Louis’ behind had him roped into Harry’s side, his head tilted back forcibly by the man’s other hand. “You know I’ll find you again if you did.”

Louis nipped at Harry’s thumb when it brushed over his lip and used an agile grip on the other’s shoulders to lift his own weight swiftly off the ground. His thighs hooked over Harry’s hips and the man was pleasantly surprised enough to aid his position, curious hands clasping the boy’s behind with minute kneading motions.

“If I were running away I won’t ask for just five grand, now would I?”

*    *    *    *    *

Harry hated people besides himself in his private space, let alone occupying any volume in his bed under his crimson silk sheets. Except this person is Louis and his lawfully wedded other half, the only person – if any – that should be allowed into his bed. Subsequently, his frightfully stubborn companion took advantage of Harry’s obligations recently to abandon his own bedroom and nap with a cradle of the man’s pillows.

“Wake up.” Harry chose a stray pillow from where Louis had kicked it onto the floor and dropped it on the boy’s face. When that did not work, he sought the boy’s feet out under a pile of covers and yanked with a grip on his ankles.

“Wha- _hmph._ ” Louis rolled over and wiggled until his legs were free, curling into a tight ball once more. “Go away.”

“The fuck I will.” Harry pried every sheet and other accessory of slumber off the boy so the floor might have a chance. He grabs one of Louis’ arms and drags him closer to the edge, ignoring all the resistance he achieves, and hauls him to his feet. “You have your own bedroom.”

Louis stood there, swaying with his eyes partially closed and consequent yawns falling from his chapped lips. He had a shirt from his own closet on, tucked in on one spot into his underwear and otherwise spilling over onto his thighs. “Let me sleep, you jerk.”

“By all means, go to sleep in the room I designated to you.” Harry went into his walk-in closet while yanking incessantly on his tie to pull it off, preparing for his shower. He rarely gets to his bedroom before midnight and this feels like a privilege. “Why do you choose to sleep in my room-”

Harry exits the home of what Louis tentatively calls hideous style to find the boy asleep once more, snoring softly with parted lips and a twitching nose, amongst the discarded comforter and duck-feather pillow on the floor.

“Fuck.” Harry goes so far as to contemplate leaving him there until after his shower but resigns to a fate of distasteful complacency. He crouches beside Louis and nudges the boy back into consciousness. When those blinding cerulean pearls gaze back at him in annoyance and impatience, he jerks his chin in the direction of the bed. “Get on the bed then. Don’t expect me to carry you.”

*    *    *    *    *

Louis answers the knock on his door after sliding off the bed and pulling his shirt down over his back sufficiently. Recently every temperature has felt excessively hot but simultaneously too chilly to bother with less attire than his present selection. Al greets him on the other side of the door with a bag of take-out food that could fool anyone into thinking it was going to feed more than one person.

“What’s up?” He accepts the food gratefully, routinely peeking in to decipher the contents.

“Boss wants to know if you’re ready.” Al grunts. He’s as much of a fatherly figure that Louis will ever have to be appreciative of in this place. “Says we gotta leave in ten minutes.”

“Ready for what?” Louis frowns. He vividly remembers the null set of reminders Harry cared at all to give him.

Al looked highly amused. “For the ballet, he says.”

Eight minutes later, Louis is dressed in yoga pants and as formal a shirt as he can find to use with minimal ironing. He hopes the coat he pulls on over the ensemble will camouflage the hurry behind his dressing. Unfortunately this meant he could not finish the food Al so considerately brought for him and Louis took it with him to the awaiting car as the city was twenty minutes away and Louis has eaten more in less time before.

Harry is never one to wait outside the car as it does pose a security threat and Louis mentally notes that had he not remembered to, he might not have at all comprehended the four men that walk him to the idle SUV. He climbs into the back-seat and has the door slammed shut after him, leaving him at the mercy of poor lighting and his bag of food.

“We could have dinner before the show, Louis.” Harry grimaced at the sight of Louis peeling open his take-out bag.

The boy sat cross-legged on his seat across from Harry, not minding the unyielding stare or frown from the latter. “This take-away is closed now though.”

“There are other restaurants.”

Louis rolled his eyes at the infuriating suggestion. “I don’t want food from other restaurants.”

“Fine, eat.” Harry took out his phone, its bright digital screen being the only other source of light. “We will drive until you’re done.”

“Won’t we be late?”

Harry did not glance up. “No.”

Louis would not be himself if he did not press the heinous subject. He stuffed a fry in his mouth after drowning it in a dainty container of mayonnaise. “Doesn’t the show start at eight o’clock?”

“The show starts when we get there.” Harry did look up then and it was to see Louis pulling apart his burger to eat the pickle independently. “If you drop food in this car-”

“You can buy another one.” Louis goaded on his reprimanding with a nonchalant reproach. He balanced the condiment container on one knee and tightly re-sandwiched his burger to eat. “You can’t, however, buy my happiness.”

“I think I can.” Harry smirked, displaying vast and uncharacteristic amounts of personal satisfaction. “I hope you enjoy the ballet tonight, darling.”

Louis did not understand the cryptic edge to Harry’s words until they arrived at the theatre thirty minutes after the schedule time for the ballet’s commencement, and questioned the absent queues in the lobby. Harry took Louis’ hand as soon as they were out of the car and led Louis through stray by-standers in the direction of the front doors.

“You did not.” Louis was agape once they were in their seats, turning to a smug Harry at his right with a glare. “I can’t believe you.”

“Then you haven’t been in this marriage as long as I have.” Harry chuckled hoarsely. He had taken off his coat already to drape over Louis’ lap, saving them the inevitable argument later when the boy asked for it.

Louis was pouting because he had no fire left in his argument; Harry had bought out the final showing of the ballet and issued the word that if they did not arrive the show must not start. He cannot think of a more egotistical move but also suffered the notions of flattery. “You didn’t have to, you know.”

“I think I did have to.” Harry tucked his phone away into the pocket of his jeans and reached over to clasp Louis’ knee. “There will be a time when I cannot indulge your whims but today is not that day.”

The lights dimmed around them and the red velvet curtains were being drawn apart. “You’re not expecting me to put out after this, are you?”

Harry tightened his hold on Louis’ knee before raising it an inch higher but the same distance lower so it rested between the boy’s thighs. “Oh I am, darling and like tonight, it will under my terms.”

*    *    *    *    *

“I want you to listen to me, darling, and do so carefully because I won’t fucking repeat myself.” Harry had Louis backed up against the edge of his desk, an arm caging the boy in on either side to prevent escape. His eyes were alright with rage and Louis’ with a harmony of betrayal. “You are not to question what I do and who I do it with.”

Louis bit his lip to keep it from trembling. There’s a devil in every man and if it ever relinquishes restraint to dominate a soul, it does so with Harry alone in the most excruciating way. “I’m not the only one who took vows, Harry.”

 _“Motherf-”_ The man shoved out of his personal space with an aggravated mutter about Louis’ foolishness. He raked a hand through his hair and turned away momentarily, regaining the dregs of civility. “Must you overreact for such trivialities? Does it bring you joy? Because it fucking pisses me off.”

They were arguing about something so menial that Louis’ dramatization finally did the deed of puzzling Harry. A business deal had to be done between an old friend who Louis made his thoughts on very clear already, and Harry had no way of understanding the boy’s nerves presently. He made it sound like utter, foolish treachery and Harry almost went back on the whole arrangement when the tears began to flow.

Louis would not fold his cards in this debacle for he was in the right. He wiped his eyes before Harry could turn around – atop feeling extra teary recently from excessive pregnant hormones his husband hated to see him crying. “I don’t care if you hate me! This marriage is not going to turn into something where we resent one another and turn to-”

“Bloody Hell.” Harry had his hands curled into his fists, the vein in his neck making an appearance and he did not show Louis the wretched venom in his eyes. “Go away. I’m done discussing this.”

“I’m not.”

“I don’t _fucking care._ Leave before I do something I’ll regret, Louis.”

Except Louis couldn’t leave nor had he heard the command because he was staring at his lap where blood blossomed between his legs like a hideous, spreading stain. He was trembling when he slipped off the table, his hands coloured the same cursed maroon from inspecting the discharge as every muscle in his body shuddered with a miserable ache.

“Harry?” He must have sounded as wounded as he felt, because the man came to him without a second between them. Everything was going black, shock setting in. “Harry, h-help.”

*    *    *    *    *

Waking up was to be greeted by harsh fluorescent lighting above Louis’ head, and a whimper left him as a result of the assault on his eyes. The knock-on effect left a throbbing in his temples and a certain heaviness in his bones as he tried to sit up. He had to be in a hospital by the smell of disinfectant and distant chatter of medical professionals amongst a sequence of beepers, ringing phones and crying visitors.

Louis blinks his eyes to adjust to the brightness and spends several minutes listening to his own heartbeat. He moaned when the dull aches ensued below his waist, and he fell back against the pillows after trying to right his posture.

“You’ve been unconscious for eight hours.” Harry’s ominous voice reached his ear from the uncomfortable plastic chairs against the wall. He stood when Louis turned in his direction, stormy emerald eyes narrowing on the boy’s hesitation vengefully. “When were you going to tell me?”

“I don’t know.” Louis’ breathing sped up when Harry’s ringed hand was extended toward him, dread filling him when the man took advantage of his temporary immobility. He watched wide-eyed as Harry set a warm, calloused palm on his bare belly. “Don’t…- Don’t make me give my baby up please. I’ll go away, you’ll never have to see me again.”

Harry did not immediately answer him; his eyes were all for the growing taut skin of his front under a thin hospital gown. “You can’t leave.”

“I-I-” Louis scrambled for something to say. He had the tell-tale sting of tears burning his eyes as they spilled over, and he let them roll down his cheeks to dampen the papery gown.

“Easy.” Harry’s smile was a twitch of his lips, and he curled his fingers into Louis’ little pudge gently so it would not cause harm but could be felt. “This baby is my heir, my firstborn. How can I forfeit that honour?”

Louis arched his back to avoid the ticklish sensation Harry triggered by absentmindedly scratching the skin above his belly in the least harsh manner. “You’re not angry?”

“I’m _livid_ that you did not tell me so that this could have been avoided.”

“I don’t want you to keep things from me just to avoid a fight.” Louis frowns, digging his elbow into the mattress so he might lift his lowered upper half. He would have turned away Harry’s aid if he truly did not need it, but rather he waits to be comfortable again before releasing the man’s arm.

Harry sighs, waking up from his seat with the buzzer necessary to summon the nurse now that Louis has woken up. “We’ll discuss this later.”

*    *    *    *    *

 _Later_ happens to be the day they arrive home from the hospital which is forty-eight hours since they left for it. The gynaecologist assured them that stress and excessive physical strain might have been the cause of Louis’ spotting but nothing to be worried about should it happen again. Harry did not dare let Louis return to his own bedroom following their return, and redirects his husband to the room they will share now. Louis showers while Harry waits as a paranoid guardian angel by the counter for him to finish, and thereafter escorts him to bed.

“I can walk on my own, Harry.” Louis points out but nonetheless uses Harry’s arm to balance his weight while getting into bed. His lower half feels extremely tender and incapable of supporting what feels like taut muscle with hooks prying them in opposite directions.

Harry gives him a dark look, one that silences any impending protests. He hovers once more while Louis gets comfortable, not relenting until the boy has settled on his side with a pillow hugged to his belly. “When you’re feeling better we should start with the nursery.”

Hearing the suggestion made Louis’ heart stop as he lifted his gaze from the bedding to his husband. “You want to do that?”

Something horrific passed fleetingly over Harry’s dilated eyes; it’s the look he had in every black market negotiation or painful family dinner when every mobster with the same last name gathered under one roof. It’s his look for facing new territory with hostility. “As much as I’d _relish_ in the prospect of something between us in bed for the rest of our lives, our child deserves their own room.”

Louis does not foresee a kind way of interpreting that statement so he squints his glare at the other room occupant. “Don’t be an asshole right now, Harry. Any other day but not right now.”

“Oh yeah, darling.” The words roll menacingly off Harry’s tongue, thick with sarcasm and distaste. “Your kindness in letting me know that I will soon become a father is a tough act of compassion to follow.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Harry.” Louis says it because he means it even on the slightest of levels. “But you already are a father, you know that.”

“Yes, and for some unfathomable reason it’s not as much of an accomplished dream like men before me have predicted.”

*    *    *    *    *

Louis has been taking care of himself and their unborn little one better than before, now that the truth is known and he can indulge in all the essential practices of one who is pregnant. He walks at least once around the mansion daily for the minimum exercise, careful to avoid Harry’s study as his husband has not spoken to him in a week. Yoga was once, in Louis’ inexpert opinion, stretching with unnecessary finesse but after intense research he has concluded that said exercise is an excellent way to remain without excess nausea or pressure in regions which are most strained.

He stays in the same bedroom as Harry now, reason being the man wanted to keep an eye on him at any moment that no other was. Funnily enough that became the extent of their communication for ten days; Harry never spoke unless it was enquire whether Louis needed anything before they went to bed. Sometimes Louis woke up plastered to Harry’s back as a result of whatever shuffling or tossing he did during the night, and the man keep from pushing him away until Louis decided to turn away first.

The weather has taken a turn for the horrific but Harry is not one to have his plans diverted by anything short of a catastrophe. He woke up at his usual hour while Louis slept in almost until noon, and Al was the one to inform Louis they’d be heading out for the day. Harry had a devious consultation with a colleague who ran the most successful casino in the city because said friend owed money that is yet to be repaid. Of all the tedious quirks Louis’ husband had, he might be the last person anyone wants to be in the debt of. Louis’ seen things in the earliest weeks of their marriage when Harry told him to stay put in his office while he worked, that would mar any strong heart had they not grown up surrounded by such horrors.

Harry’s younger brother, who is supposed to be his groom before Harry strode in to dominate the situation, told Louis that the man has grown soft since his wedding day. With the evidence that came from living with Harry, Louis merely laughed and found someone else to chat with during the fundraiser.

One of Harry’s men brings Louis a phone to answer when it’s already grown dark and the pelting rain can be heard above anything else. He looks up questioningly from the website he’s browsing but accepts the device anyway. “Hello?”

“Louis?” Harry’s voice comes through the receiver, clear and gravelly as if he were physically present.

“Yeah.” He sits back in his seat. The fact that he’s in Harry’s office, using the man’s laptop and vast black leather chair is irrelevant.

Harry clears his throat and it creates a low rustle through their connection. “I won’t be coming back tonight.”

“Why?”

“For fuck’s sake, Louis. Have you looked outside?” Harry sounds exasperated and is moving away from whatever commotion is in the background. The unkind buzzing and trumpets of gambling machines echo at his back along with the laughter of those who attach themselves to it.

“Right.” Louis yawns away from the receiver, and lays a hand over his barely noticeable bump. First babies have always been small in his family. “Well, be safe, I guess. Come back home when you can.”

“Yeah.” Harry coughs and it doesn’t take a moment of thought to figure it’s as awkward as he felt on the other side. “I will.”

Louis remains staring at the fireplace, his head resting against the back of Harry’s chair. “You’re not cheating on me, are you?”

“You have to ask?” The first hints of amusement curb Harry’s usual aggressive tone.

“That’s not an answer.” Louis sing-songs. Even as he asks he knows it’s a futile enquiry for if any bone in Harry’s body is undoubtable, it would be his loyalty.

Harry chose to indulge this foolish conversation rather than return to the company awaiting him immediately. “Am I expected to give up the impending orgie for you, then? You’re too far away to be making demands.”

“I could kick your ass, you know.” Louis laughs under his breath, hugging his folded knees. “I w _ill_ kick your ass if you go near something so gross.”

“You can come with me next time, darling.” Harry meekly reassures him, an undeniable chuckle leaving his pinched lips.

Louis yawns again into his fist, wiping away the tears that inevitably follow. He wakes from the warm leather seat to leave the study. “You’re boring. I think I’m going to bed.”

“Fine, yeah.” Harry sniffs the way he does when he’s struggling for something more to say. “I’ll try to be home by morning.”

*    *    *    *    *

Louis could not sleep no matter which position he chose and how he made the faintest adjustments to the angle of his limbs. He huffed irritably after hours had passed and all he could do was stare blankly at the ceiling, a random pillow clutched to his chest and another under his back. The rain had ceased entirely to grant his senses reprieve from their violence and his fingers or toes would twitch from a stray breeze.

His home was silent for a while and Louis had just settled into it, his head turned to the side and his jobless hand framing his risen baby bump. The bedroom door opening was softened by the carpet beneath it and Louis only noticed another occupant when the mattress sank at his hip, a larger hand covering his own. He did not have to open his eyes or hear a voice to know who it was, and stifled a small smile when those calloused fingers threaded themselves between his own.

“Miss me?” Harry brought his lips to Louis’ ear and caused a plane of goosebumps from his whisper, following it up with a barely present kiss to the boy’s jaw.

Louis mumbled something as he came to, squirming until he was minutely out of reach and Harry could not harness his embarrassment with his signature torturous kisses. “How was the orgie?”

His husband did not laugh but he did stand to strip off his clothes, leaving just his boxers on. “Could have done without it.”

“Hmph.” Louis made grabby hands in no particular direction and sighed in satisfaction when an added weight, warm and reassuring, latched onto his side. He waited for Harry’s arm to be draped over his hips before wiggling his way into a cosy burrow against Harry’s chest. “Why’re you feeling so cuddly today?”

“Did you know Danny had a kid?” Harry drew Louis closer, pleased only when not even air could exist between them. He combed his fingertips through the drowsy boy’s hair as a distraction from his words.

Louis shook his head. “Good for him. He’s never liked children though.”

“He got some hooker pregnant and she died in labour.” Harry diffuses whatever kindred joy Louis might have for the other man, a second new father.

Sleep once more was driven back like a retreating shore when Louis heard this. “That’s awful, Harry.”

“Maybe.” The man remembers that he still has his jewellery on, and begins prying off his rings then opening the latch of his watch. He throws them all onto the floor so he doesn’t have to move. “Should have seen him with the girl thought. He looked at her, his daughter, like….like she was the world and everything in it for him.”

Louis closed his eyes to ease the sting behind them, smiling against Harry’s clavicle where the man could not detect it. “I’m happy for him.”

“I’m not.” Harry tightened his curled arm around Louis’ shoulders and kisses the boy’s temple. “How can I when I’m preoccupied with the honour that this little one grants me.”

*    *    *    *    *

Ten minutes ago Louis had barged in Harry’s office while the latter was busy with accounts and cheques, and failed to offer an explanation as he dropped to his knees under Harry’s desk. He had the element of surprise on his side but there is also no person who could achieve a one-up on his deceptively charming husband. Louis ignored Harry’s blazing stare when he undid his fly and took him in his hand with a pleased hum.

Harry abandoned any hope of answering his vibrating cellphone to rather lean back in his Kingly chair and revel in the sensation triggered by Louis mouthing at the head of his hardening length. Louis rarely volunteered for such exquisite rewards and he always renders Harry’s painfully conflicted by doing so.

He hollows his cheeks and swallows around Harry’s throbbing girth, flicking his tongue over the swollen slit at the tip. It’s always a challenge initially to take more than a few inches into his mouth but with the momentum he is allowed to gain, Louis sinks his head lower until he feels Harry at the back of his throat. Had he possessed a gag reflex the explicit act would have caused him more than a little discomfort, but Louis never focuses on that for long enough.

His nails dig into Harry’s thighs as he bobs his head, hungry for the man’s release that is imminent. Breathing harshly, Louis pulls off the shaft and runs his tongue along the side over a tender vein that never fails to make Harry curse. He even dares to kiss his way down to Harry’s sac, knowing full well how much the man enjoys when he nibbles on the sensitive skin.

Louis keeps up his ministrations until it truly rivals Harry’s stamina and he is fuelled by new resolve at the sound of his husband’s nails scraping the leather armrest. He moans and just barely escapes gagging when Harry orgasms on his tongue, not needing to be held down even if he is.

“Have I done something to please you that I am unaware of?” Harry prides himself in not needing a recovery period. He redoes his fly and is too late to help Louis stand.

“Nope.” Louis is chewing his lip, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. He is the epitome of temptation, but all Harry gets is a chaste kiss on his cheek before Louis turns to leave. “Thanks for that.”

Harry is honest enough to admit his eyes are all for Louis’ behind during his exit. “Uh- Sure.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> This happened as a result of me growing violently irritated with fic Louis not having a spine. Sorta.


End file.
